


Until We Aren't Strangers Anymore

by WennyT, whatkindoftea (haeli)



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Co-Written, Domestic, M/M, Marriage Contracts, Marriage of Convenience, Same-Sex Marriage, Tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 07:55:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WennyT/pseuds/WennyT, https://archiveofourown.org/users/haeli/pseuds/whatkindoftea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yunho needs money, and Changmin has it. Changmin needs a marriage certificate, and Yunho thinks they might have a deal. The fact that they can't stand each other doesn't matter, because this is a business transaction. Feelings don't have a place in this equation. Or do they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

The letter that changes their lives forever arrives on an innocuous Wednesday morning.

 

"Oppa," his twenty-one-year-old sister says from the doorway to his room, startling Jung Yunho into yanking too hard on his tie and nearly suffocating himself. It is seven sharp in the morning and Jihye never wakes this early, even for her morning classes at the public university near their apartment. And she has not called him 'Oppa' in years, preferring to shout 'Yunho' or occasionally, when she's really cross at him, 'Jung Yunho' instead.

 

So Yunho thinks his impromptu turn as a overripe tomato is entirely warranted.

 

It does not stop him from feeling rather embarrassed though. He coughs, pulling the already rumpled tie off and rubs at his throat. "J-Jihye? What are you- why are you awake?"

 

"Oppa," Jihye repeats, ignoring his questions and shocking a stop to Yunho's sputtering a for a second time. "Oppa, the post came."

 

"Yay?" Yunho ventures tentatively, and is nonplussed when his sister rolls her eyes and lifts up her hand up to his eye level, showing him the fancy envelope clutched in her fingers. Yunho stares at the words printed in dark green ink across it and blinks as he attempts a half Windsor knot again. "Um... You got accepted into Hogwarts?"

 

"Oppa!" Jihye stamps her foot in frustration this time,  incensed that her dense brother has not gotten it yet. "Oppa! This is serious!"

 

Yunho just stares at her. "Okay, the post came, yes I get it. Now I'm thanking you very seriously for your help in collecting it for me?" He risks a quick glance at the mirror, hoping a different angle makes the knot look less uneven.

 

"I-" Jihye takes a deep breath and visibly calms herself now. "Oppa. I got accepted at Juilliard."

 

"Oh." Yunho says, fingers slackening on his tie. "Oh." Realization washes over him, crashing into elation. He can see it already, his baby sister at Carnegie Hall playing with all of the enthusiasm fifteen years of practicing never wore down.

 

“Yep.” Jihye returns helplessly. “But... but the fees. The fees are- are-” She fails to finish, hand flagging from where it was triumphantly waving her acceptance letter in the air. She strokes her fingers over it, right where the words promise her dream. It looks so much like defeat it makes Yunho’s heart clench.

 

“Expensive?” Yunho purses his lips. It’s an understatement, even he knows it. The sudden worry feels like weights tied to the happiness, pulling it down to his stomach, pulling him back to earth, back to the reality of their situation.

 

“Yeah.” Jihye grips the envelope tighter. “I... I really want to go. But-”

 

And Yunho knows that look. It is the same Jihye wore when they were still kids and she broke one of their mother’s most prized teapots while hosting a tea party for her teddies. It’s the same expression she wore when they were teenagers and she scratched their father’s car while backing out of the driveway. Jihye would never ask him but Yunho has always done anything for his little sister.

 

He strides over, long legs eating up the distance between them in seconds. He curves both of his arms around her, pressing his lips against Jihye’s ear. “No ‘but’s. You’re going.” He doesn’t know how he’ll make it happen but he will. He will find a way.

 

“But- The money-”

 

“No buts,” Yunho repeats, hugging her tighter. He buries his face in her hair and lets the pride he feels for her wash over the impossibility of what he is promising her. “You’re _going_ , I’ll make sure of that.”

 

It is strange how some things work out in the end.

 

* * *

 

The buzz at the _izakaya_ is a steady stream of noise, just loud enough to lull you into a sense of privacy. Yunho is sitting by the bar, shoulders slouched, a resigned air around him. He stares at his _soju_ glass as if the answer to his problems was hiding at the bottom of it. Next to him is Heechul, looking perfectly out of place with his clothes that could not scream designer more even if the print was nothing but a pair of initials over and over again.

 

“Jihye got accepted into Juilliard and I have no idea how I’m going to pay for it,” Yunho tells his glass of _soju_ , his fingers curled loosely around it. They have only been here for only about a quarter of an hour and already Yunho is starting on his second bottle.

 

“Oh yes, hello Heechul, " Heechul deadpans, swirling his Lafite Rothschild '83 about idly. "Lovely to see you again, I missed you when you were away. So how was China, did you meet any hot women there, I totally did not just call you out to bitch about how uptight I am over money."

 

Yunho figures it is all those years of experience with kids that prevent him from rolling his eyes. He turns to Heechul.

 

“Fine, hello Heechul, I see you are well, now let’s talk about my extremely serious problem.” He empties the shot glass in front of him in one go, reaching for the bottle to pour himself another.

 

He sees Heechul frown from the corner of his eye and it is enough to make him slow down. Yunho pushes the glass away, a bit too fast and some of the clear liquid spills over his fingers. He wipes it off on his jeans; a bad habit he has picked up at the kindergarten. Heechul gives him a rather unimpressed raise of an eyebrow before taking a sip of his wine.

 

“Okay, so tell me. What’s so terrible you would treat your best friend like this?”

 

“How am I supposed to pay the fees?” Yunho half whispers, thinking about all of the zeroes he saw on the letter, and how there is no where near enough in his bank account to cover it.

 

“Then it’s simple. Just tell her she can’t go.”

 

“Not an option.” Yunho's reply is swift in coming. His tone leaves no room for argument.

 

“Fine,” Heechul mimicks Yunho's tone while glaring off to the side.

 

They drink in silence until Heechul downs the rest of his wine in an uncharacteristically enthusiastic gulp, setting his wine glass down with a clink. "I know! Why don’t you sell some of your father’s research? The old man must have left something behind worth selling.”

 

Yunho stares at Heechul like he has just suggested for Yunho to sell Jihye away. "Heechul, you like your life as it is, right?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Then don't suggest something that you know is just going to make me kill you." Yunho couples the words with just enough smile to let Heechul know that he is joking. Mostly.

 

His best friend takes umbrage at his words anyway. "Like you said, idiot boy, it's just a suggestion." Heechul flicks him hard, once, on the forehead, and raises an elegant hand while Yunho is doubled over, clutching at his forehead. "Bartender!"

 

"Y-yes?" The man sidles over, plainly wishing to be anywhere but here.

 

"What's the most expensive wine you have in this shithole?"

 

Blinking furiously, the bartender directs his answer to Heechul's hands, drumming against the polished countertop. "Um, you just finished it, sir."

 

"What the-" Heechul takes one look at how the other is shivering and wonders if he is truly so scary. "Forget it, I'll have whatever he's," he pokes a finger into the back of Yunho's slight bent head, eliciting a muffled "ow" in the the process "having then. "

 

* * *

 

“I don’t think I’m going to do that.” They are finishing their eighth bottle of _soju_ and still Yunho has no solution to his problem. Heechul is just tipsy enough to start appreciating the acquired taste of cheap liquor.

 

He orders another bottle of _soju_ and tops off Yunho’s shot glass, “Well, at the risk of me sounding like a repetitive nag, you’re running out of options. I know you hate the idea of selling out your father's memory like that, but... What else are you going to do?”

 

It is hardly a question, and Yunho feels stunned under Heechul’s direct stare, sometimes forgetting how blunt and searing his friend can be.

 

“I...” Yunho trails off before taking his shot to buy a moment before he has to admit he has no idea. “I don’t know.  I wouldn’t even know who to go to, what to do with it.”  He had spent too many years ignoring the good will that surrounds his father’s research - he had never liked glad-handing and swanning through parties to make connections, and now regrets it dearly.

 

Heechul keeps watching for a few long seconds, like how a hungry crocodile eyes a vulnerable wildebeest before consuming it whole, before a slow smile cracks his cold expression.  “Luckily for you, I know just the person.”

 

“What?” Yunho chokes belatedly on his own saliva and the taste of _soju_ on his tongue, and thumps himself on the chest in a futile effort to cease the coughing when it becomes apparent that Heechul is content to sit there and laugh at him.

 

"Get a hold of yourself... There's no need to be so excited." With a look of patient disbelief, Heechul continues. “My bitch of a cousin- he’ll be interested.”

 

A name nags at the back of Yunho’s mind, but he can’t quite get to it. “Your cousin? He’s running the-”

 

“The research institute founded with the family money, yeah,” Heechul’s face twists in distaste. “Still whiny as fuck though. Maybe this will get him off my case.” He takes another drink.  “And if it gets you to be less mopey, then it’s a win-win, isn’t it? Now shut up and drink. This week has been absolute shit, and I don’t want to hear about your problems anymore.”

 

Yunho just laughs. The topic does not come up again.

 

* * *

 

The night ends with Yunho walking a very drunk Heechul home, the older man having caught up to Yunho and then some in the last couple of hours.

 

“You know what,” Heechul drools onto Yunho’s shoulder.  Yunho grunts his reply, shifting to pull his friend closer with a grimace as he stumbles dangerously along the sidewalk. “S’too bad he’s such a fuckwit,” Heechul frowns to himself before looking at Yunho with a blearily analytic eye.  It makes Yunho a little uncomfortable.

 

“What are you talking about?” Yunho sighs and continues pulling his friend along towards his apartment.  He is tired and feeling a bit like a failure, and he really wants to get Heechul home so he can wallow a bit on his own for what that is left of the night.

 

“‘Cause he is kinda hot,” Heechul slurs and Yunho is on the verge of dropping his friend onto the sidewalk if he does not start moving his feet himself.  “Okay, who are you talking about?”

 

Heechul waves off the interruption, hand smacking Yunho on the side of the head.

 

“And after the seven minutes in heaven he had with that classmate of his it’s pretty clear you have the right equipment for the job,” Heechul snickers before he deems himself so funny the giggle evolves into a cackle that shakes his entire frame.

 

“Heechul,” Yunho huffs, “What the hell are you on about?”

 

“That ridiculous cousin of mine,” Heechul bares his teeth at the thought, “You know. The whiny fuck who’ll buy your dad’s stuff. Changmin.”

 

And the name dislodges something in Yunho’s mind; a vague memory of wide eyes and too big ears and a quiet, thoughtful stare.

 

“Changmin?” It has been years since Yunho had seen the younger boy, before his father had died, and he stopped caring about those circles.

 

Heechul laughs again, less amused and more mocking.  “Got himself into a spot with the board.” Yunho would not normally say he is a gossip, but he finds himself curious and willing to push his friend while he has the chance.

 

“Trouble?” Yunho tries to sound disinterested, knowing it will spur Heechul to reveal more.  

 

“Yeah, brat didn’t think about absolutely everything, the scheming little shit. Didn’t read all the fine print.”

 

“He messed up a contract?” Yunho is vaguely horrified.  He has been away from that world for a while, but not long enough to forget the legal nightmare something so careless could incur.

 

“He wishes!” Heechul barks, and Yunho stumbles again as Heechul is overcome by another fit of giggles. “After his little indiscretion during school, the board put a clause into the paperwork.  Little Shim can’t become majority holder until he gets married.”

 

“He needs to- what?”

 

“Yeah, married, like banquet, rings, house, the whole goddamned nine yards.”

 

“How unfortunate.” Yunho does not feel all that terrible for Changmin anymore. He thinks, with some bitterness, that he will get married to a woman off the streets if it meant he could secure Jihye’s dream for her. It is callous and certainly cruel, but Yunho doesn’t care because it is Jihye, it is _his baby sister_.

 

“Brat still found a way around it- or at least part of it. Contract doesn’t mention gender. He’d marry a man just to piss everyone off, even if he wasn’t inclined that way anyway.” Heechul snickers, and Yunho stares. “Just gotta find someone, t’do it, you know?” Heechul trails off, looking at his fingernails under the streetlight like he did not just drop potentially life altering information on Yunho’s head.

 

“He’s going to? Go through with it, I mean.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Heechul looks up at Yunho with something like pity, “it’s a lot of money and power, and those have always been shiny things little Changmin finds irresistible.”

 

Yunho hums in reply, mind trying to work through the haze of alcohol to process all of this new, helpful information.

 

“Whatever you’re thinking about, just no,” Heechul mutters, finally helping himself along, “it won’t be worth it.”

 

Yunho thinks of Jihye and the price of her dreams, and he knows that it will be; her future is worth _this_.  He just needs to actually work up the nerve to execute the lunatic plan that is forming in his head, picturing the heavy card-stock invitation sitting on the cluttered kitchen counter at home.

 

First step, he needs to find a suit, and not the one he has left over from graduation. One that actually fits him and the trousers do not end above his ankles.

 

* * *

 

Yunho instantly wishes he had invested more in his rental suit. He can smell something pungent before he even takes the thing out of the garment bag. Jihye wrinkles her nose and shrinks backwards from where she is leaning on Yunho’s wardrobe. “Did you dig this out from the rubbish chute?”

 

“Haha, so funny,” Yunho says sourly, nudging at one wrinkled cuff with a slippered foot. There is no cat hair on the thing and he does not know if he is relieved or worried at the discovery.

 

“No, really. Are you going to wear this?” There is a fair amount of genuine disbelief in Jihye’s voice as she crosses her arms and stares at the bag warily.

 

“No, I just brought it back to hang on my wall. It’s modern art.” He unzips the bag with a flourish, like he’s revealing an installation piece by Ai Weiwei and not a cheap black rental, before turning back to Jihye, entirely unamused.  “Of course I’m wearing it! I rented it, didn’t I?”

 

“It smells really gross though.” Her nose wrinkles as she leans in for a closer inspection, although not too close. She pulls back fast enough, exaggeratedly disgusted. “Eww!”

 

“I didn’t realise I sent you to university just for you to have the vocabulary of a five year old,” Yunho frowns, slipping into his kindergarten teacher voice. It is a bad habit and he knows how much Jihye hates it when he does it, so he throws an apologetic look her way.

 

“You’re just bitter because this stupid suit is expensive... Why are you even going tonight?” Though he is relieved Jihye does not retaliate more than that, he makes careful note of the way her eyes slide to him, suspicion obvious, “We’ve never been to it even though they’ve begged you to go for years and years, so why...?”

 

“Dr. Seo called and said that they’re doing something special tonight because it’s been ten years since Dad’s... gone.” The half lie rolls of his tongue easily - practice made perfect. “So I thought I’d show up and, I don’t know. See what they’re up to.”

 

“Let me just- Okay. So you’re saying that those idiots are having a special party because it’s been a decade since Daddy died, and _you’re indulging them in their celebration_?” Jihye practically hisses out the last part, pushing away from the wardrobe to stand straight. She is not a match to Yunho’s height but commands a certain presence. It is moments like these when Yunho realises just how grown up his baby sister is.

 

“It isn’t like that, Jihye-yah.” Yunho pulls the jacket off its hanger, movements jerky with frustration - frustration with Jihye, with himself. “It’s- You know they loved him and his work. They just wanted to do something more because it’s been a long time. The fact that they still remember him and respect him after so long says a lot, doesn’t it?” He is using the same excuses other people have tried to coax him with all these years and they taste bitter in his mouth. He hates lying to Jihye, hates it, but this is for her own good, Yunho reasons with himself.

 

“Yeah, it says how much they love his work and the money it saved them. If Daddy hadn’t drop the stupid bacteria into those DNA samples by accident, and if he hadn’t been smart enough to realise what he had done, they wouldn’t even have the means to do all their stupid research!” Jihye’s bitterness is old and stale in Yunho’s ears. She had always struggled more with their father’s legacy than Yunho.

 

“Jihye.” Yunho’s voice is soft, but he knows his sister understands, when she shuts her mouth with a snap and looks away. Her lips are tightened in disapproval but her tone is softer, more conciliatory when she speaks again. “You know I’m just... You don’t need to be there, Yunho. You’ve already given so much.”

 

 _To me, and to them,_ the words hang unspoken between them, and Yunho looks away from where he is smoothing out the jacket lapels and up at Jihye’s too bright eyes when the silence stretches. He is over by her in an instant, cupping his palms to her cheeks and smoothing his thumbs under her eyes in a well-practiced move. “Hey, hey. What’s this?”

 

“Nothing,” She sniffs. “I just. I don’t like it when you have to go to places you don’t want to go and you think you have to and you actually don’t-”

 

“Hey,” Yunho repeats, smoothing at her fringe. “I’m going because I want to see how they honour Dad’s memory, yeah? I want to go.” Another lie, he thinks, and they trip better off his tongue the more he tells them. “And if it’s boring or they start some mutual ego stroking session that all science-y weirdos seem to love, I’ll leave, okay? I promise I’ll leave if it gets uncomfortable.”

 

Jihye laughs, quietly but the tell-tale sheen that made her eyes glossy has gone away.  Her eyes flick to Yunho’s almost-too-small twin bed where a gnarled mass of ties has been tossed on top of the comforter. “Wear the silver one. You’ll look nice. Nicer than those stupid old farts, anyway.”

 

It is an olive branch and Yunho accepts it without hesitation, tired of the argument and tired of lying to his baby sister. “Thanks. Now I won’t look like I got dressed in the dark.”

 

“Yeah but it’ll smell like you got dressed in the dump, so don’t get too smug.”

 

“Thanks for that vote of confidence,” Yunho rolls his eyes. “I’ll just tell everyone my little sister bought this suit for me and her cat peed on it, how’s that?”

 

“You wouldn’t dare!” Jihye shrieks in not-quite-mock outrage, and aims a kick at Yunho’s shin. He darts away laughing, even as he tries once again, unsuccessfully, to tell himself that lying to her is for her own good.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

“Your invitation, sir,” The maitre’d drawls, even as he purses his lips at Yunho’s rented clothing. The judgemental stare has Yunho straightening, and he squares his shoulders in false nonchalance while reaching a hand into his suit’s inner pocket.

 

Only for his fingers to brush against nothing but lint and coarse faux silk. The maitre’d looks smugly victorious at the confusion that must surely be written on Yunho’s face, and he opens his mouth, all but prepared to bluff his way in when-

 

“Yunho, my boy!” Seo Taiji, his father’s old colleague and the current head of the Research and Development department at Shim Corp. pushes his way out to the foyer, where Yunho and the maitre’d are currently having their little stare-down contest. “After all these years- you’ve finally come! Why are you even standing here-”

 

He strides forward to envelope Yunho in a hug, and Yunho breathes in the faint scent of expensive tobacco and whiskey clinging to his finely made - probably bespoke - suit jacket. His father smelled like this too, back when he was alive and Yunho was a child and still young enough to cling. It is the memory that makes him squeeze back, and Dr Seo thumps him on the back, a solid whump that has Yunho wincing; then the older man backs up slightly. He takes Yunho by the arms, but his eyes are skipping over the ill fitting clothes and focusing on Yunho’s face instead. “Look at you- All grown up now, you look just like your father- The rest of the old group are all here tonight, they’d love to see you- where’s Jihye?”

 

They have been moving all the while, so Yunho is halfway into the ballroom when the maitre’d speaks again, his voice liberally coated in disapproval. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I need to see this young man’s invitation before-”

 

Dr Seo waves a dismissive hand without even turning about. “I’m the guest of honour tonight, and I was the one who invited him. That should be good enough, no?”

 

Yunho does not get to stick around to hear the man’s reply, but he cannot help feeling just a little vindicated even as he bobs like a buoy, towed by Dr Seo relentlessly through throngs and throngs of people.

 

“This is old Jung’s son, yeah-”

 

“No, sorry, ladies, maybe we’ll be back to talk later-”

 

“I’ve someone to introduce to him, perhaps after-”

 

Yunho blinks, more than a little dazed by the high number of conversations Dr Seo seems to be having simultaneously while moving towards a particular corner of the gigantic ballroom. They come to an abrupt stop next to a conveniently placed potted palm- Yunho wonders why all event planners seem to prefer pots of boring palms instead of ferns or even brighter-looking flowers. He opens his mouth to muse aloud, but Dr Seo’s enthusiastic greeting puts a halt to his thoughts and alerts him to the fact that they are not alone. “There you are, why do you always hide away at these events, really?”

 

“Oh, Taiji,” a laconic reply comes, and Yunho stares at a pair of highly polished loafers that he had not noticed before. Their owner is so well-hidden behind the palm that Yunho can’t see anything more than a pair of black long, trouser-clad legs. “I hide away at these events because I don’t like them, and because I’m not the guest of honour, unlike some people. _You_ go mingle.”

 

“Just because I’m on your payroll doesn’t mean I have to listen to you all the time,” Dr Seo chortles. “And it’s definitely not working hours now, so. And stop lurking! I’ve someone I want you to meet.”

 

“The people you usually introduce me to are sycophants you want me to help you fleece grants out of, so pardon me if I don’t get terribly excited,” the legs straighten, their owner stepping forward and out of the shadows; Yunho finds himself staring into a face with a pair of too familiar, rounded eyes. “Shim Changmin!” The exclamation escapes his lips before he can hold it back, and the eyes blink slowly, once, twice.

 

“Oh, it’s _you_ ,” Shim Changmin says, pronouncing ‘you’ with the same mixture of faint horror and contempt Jihye uses whenever Yunho brings his conquests home. “No need to introduce us, Taiji. I know him, he’s friends with my cousin.”

 

“Which one?” Dr Seo smiles, slightly deflated at the not-so-friendly way Changmin is eyeing Yunho.

 

“The crazy one,” the answer has Yunho bristling, hackles rising in defence of Heechul, but then Changmin steps out even further, until he and Yunho are nearly toe to toe, and his extended hand robs Yunho of further speech. He’s all but ready to revise his opinion of Changmin into something a little more positive when the former recoils, pulling his hand back just as Yunho is ready to clasp it with his own. “What the- What is that smell, is that- did you pee in your suit?”

 

“No!” Yunho blurts out louder than he should. “I, er-  My cat peed on it,” he improvises, but is horrified when the wrinkles in Changmin's nose grow more pronounced. "I thought it smelled familiar, so it _is_ the smell of cat urine."

 

 _And how do you even know the smell of cat pee, do you live in it,_ Yunho wants to reply, but Dr. Seo claps a heavy hand on both of their shoulders, laughing good naturedly. Yunho suspects he will have bruises tomorrow.   From across the ballroom, an event manager shouts for Dr. Seo’s attention, looking harried with her clipboard and cell phone clutched in hand.

 

“We need to see you up near the front,” she does not look up as she sends a flurry of text messages. “A couple of photos for the papers and a few questions, that’s it.  You’ll be done in a few minutes.”  She adds, after glancing at Yunho and Changmin standing with the guest of honor.

 

Dr. Seo nods to the organizer before turning to the two young men, “Seems like you two youngsters are getting on fine without me. Have fun chatting!”

 

And then it is just the two of them, staring guardedly at each other. “Hi,” Yunho offers awkwardly, after it is apparent that Changmin is content to stare at him in fascinated silence, as though he is a new strain of the influenza virus wriggling under the lens of an electron microscope.  

 

“What are you doing here?” Changmin utters abruptly, folding his arms across his chest. “Heechul says you don’t like events like this.”

 

“I don’t, but- wait, Heechul talks to you about _me_?” Yunho gapes.

 

“There’s no need to look so flattered. I asked him a little about you a couple of years ago when I wanted to contact you about your father’s research. Which you may remember as you viciously declining my offer... I seem to recall some threat of physical violence, too.”

 

“You mean when you tried to bribe me into giving up the copyright to his unpublished papers, which you’ll then use to market some shit product you’ll sell at inflated prices to people who can’t really afford it?  But they pay for it anyway, because _what choice do they have when it promises to save lives_.” Some hitherto unknown part of him prompts the spiteful comeback, and he regrets it immediately when the Shim scion’s features darken to take on a decidedly cold cast.

 

 _Shit, Jung, you’re the one who wants to sell it to him now, remember,_ Yunho growls at himself in his head, tamping down the urge to smack his own head against a wall. _You want to soften him down and butter him up, not make him pissed at you!_

 

“That’s an interesting opinion you have of me, Mr. Jung,” Changmin murmurs, straightening to his full height. Yunho is dismayed to note that the other man has about an inch over him. “Can I quote you on that? Some little business magazine wants to interview me after this, and I’m afraid I don’t have a snappy one-liner yet.”

 

His smile is friendly. His eyes are not.

 

Yunho grits his teeth so hard that he wonders how he does not have a headache yet. “I apologise,” he forces out, making himself meet the other man’s gaze. “That was unwarranted. Anyway, there is something I want to t-”

 

“My, what big words you know, Mr Jung,” Changmin’s smile widens as he cuts in smoothly. “So extremely articulate for a kindergarten babysitter.”

 

“Teacher,” Yunho corrects automatically, the old annoyance bubbling up again at the word ‘babysitter’, then he realises what the Shim brat has said. “How do you know I teach?” He demands, voice louder than he realises. Changm- no, the Shim brat looks over Yunho’s head and frowns, the condescending arch of his eyebrows irritating Yunho further.  

 

“Now you’ve done it, people are looking and I need to find another spot.” Changmin makes to move, but Yunho catches at his arm.

 

“I didn’t come over to snipe at you or something. We need to talk. Or rather, I need to talk. To you.”

 

Both of Shim’s eyebrows go up this time. That, as well as the way he glances at Yunho’s hand on his sleeve, as though it were a disgustingly hairy spider, is enough to make Yunho feel his patience wear as if he has just taken a class of misbehaving four year olds on an extended trip to the zoo.  He tamps down on the urge to yank out all of the little hairs in the other man's brows with a pair of Jihye’s tweezers.  “‘We’? Did you just say ‘we’, Mr. Jung? I wasn’t aware that” a pause, “we know each other well enough for there to be a ‘we’.”

 

The patronising smirk that follows is enough to break the tight leash Yunho has on his temper. He tightens his grip, and Changmin’s mouth flatlines. “Listen here, you smug bastard,” Yunho whispers, low and fast and furious, “I came here wanting to talk business with you, not watch you posture about like some- some showy _peacock_. And I think you know that very well too, otherwise I wouldn’t even try to continue this ridiculous conversation or even come near you. If you don’t stop fucking around and let me talk, I’m going to the nearest reporter and telling them all about how you love taking it up the ass. In fact, why don’t I do it now. That’s the senior correspondent for the _Chosun Ilbo_ over there by the buffet tables, isn’t it?”

 

Yunho half-bluffs, gambling on Heechul’s comments about preferences and make out sessions in closets and hopes his threat hits home.  Changmin’s nostrils flare dangerously at Yunho’s words, but that is the only discernible reaction Yunho gets at his outburst. The younger man exhales slowly, “You wouldn’t. No one would believe you for a minute, anyway.”

 

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Yunho retorts, his tone angry and impatient, “It’ll make a fantastic headline; all those gossip rags will eat it up with or without proof.  ‘Shim Corp. CEO Cavorts in Closets’. It has a certain poetic ring to it. And I think the word of a childhood acquaintance and a family member would be enough for them, don’t you?”

 

He waits until the blankness fades from the other man’s eyes.

 

“Heechul,” Changmin sneers in realization, wrenching his arm from Yunho’s grip. They stare at each other in mutual disgust before Changmin finally asks what Yunho’s been waiting to hear, “What business do you want to talk about?”

 

“My father’s research,” Yunho rolls his eyes, “But I may have the solution to some of your problems too.”

 

“My problems?” Changmin affects an unamused tone, folding his arms across his chest, but Yunho can hear the nervousness lurking beneath it.

 

“The one where you can’t become majority holder until you’re settled and married.”

 

“I’m going to kill him, is there anything he doesn’t tell you? No,” Changmin raises one hand, “ _Don’t_ answer that.” They both know that Heechul will probably be taking a week long vacation after this. Perhaps even a month long one.  “How on earth do you think you could possibly help?”

 

“You need a marriage certificate, and I need some guarantee of money,” Yunho decides a direct approach may be the best, based on the way color is beginning to crawl across Changmin’s cheeks. If he beats around the bush any longer, he risks Changmin losing his own temper or just walking away. “We can marry for a set period of time, then divorce. You’ll get all the Shim billions at your disposal, and I get a hefty sum from you as alimony. Or something. The point is, it would be a win-win situation, we both benefit.”

 

“Win-win- You- Just what could make you _this_ desperate for money, Jung?” Changmin looks as though he has no idea what to make of Yunho’s thick-skinned audacity.

 

“My sister,” Yunho’s voice softens minutely at the thought of Jihye, “She has an amazing opportunity.  She got into Julliard, but the tuition is -” Yunho thinks of the six-figure sum stated on Julliard's website, in American dollars, and feels a slight wave of nausea. He swallows and hardens his voice. “It’s expensive.”

 

“Jung,” Changmin’s eyes are alight again with mocking amusement, “I didn’t know you had this in you.  Whoring yourself out just to get your sister to school? So _low_ for the son of such a prominent figure. I am _aghast_.”

 

Ignoring Changmin’s remarks, Yunho presses on doggedly. “She plays the piano, and she’s amazing. I’d do anything to make sure she has this future.”

 

“Hmmmm,” Changmin looks sympathetic for about three seconds before his face breaks into a smirk. “Anything, you say? Well how about this: Try again, Jung. This is a terrible sob story and an even worse excuse for trying to get your hands on my money. Less pathetic, more sexy this time. And, action!”

 

“I don’t care if you believe me, or not,” Yunho can hear the blood pounding in his temples as Changmin gets under his skin, “I don’t care if I look like some gold digger or whatever. I just need the money for her school!”

 

“So greedy,” Changmin says in a sing-song tone, shaking his head back and forth, “It’s incredibly unappealing, just so you know. I hope this isn’t how you always try to hit on people.”

 

“I’m trying to benefit both of us,” Yunho hisses, “I’m sure I could make a decent sum with an exclusive tip to a newspaper, don’t you think?”

 

“Unlikely,” Changmin snorts, “the most you could get is probably a couple hundred thousand won.  Not nearly enough to cover private school fees.”

 

“If it were someone else - a low level idol maybe.  But you’re the CEO of Shim Corp, Shim Changmin.  You never sell yourself short, and I think those papers would think you’re worth a little bit more for that, don’t you?” Yunho enunciates each word carefully, so Changmin can understand how serious he is about going to the press.

 

“What the fuck do you want, Jung Yunho?” Changmin’s patience finally snaps.

 

“I told you,” it is Yunho’s turn to roll his eyes, “I want to marry you.”

 

“Well this is refreshing,” Changmin growls, stepping into Yunho’s personal space, “A marriage proposal that feels more like a murder threat.  How _original_.”

 

“Look, I’m trying to be serious.  If you don’t want to make this deal, then just fucking say so.  I have better things to do than listen to you attempt witty comebacks,” Yunho pushes the issue, and hopes he has unbalanced Changmin enough to make him consider the offer. There is no secondary plan, and he desperately needs the money.  

 

Changmin watches him carefully, eyes dark and considering, “If I say yes now, I’d be an idiot.”

 

“Well you already are one, so I don’t really see your point.”

 

“Okay, fine,” Changmin snaps, “But we need to talk this over.  Come to my office on Tuesday so we can discuss things, and bring your father’s papers.”

 

“Nope,” Yunho cuts across him, “Neutral ground and no papers. Pick something else.”

 

“Fine! Ritz Carlton’s Hanazono, Wednesday for lunch. Meet me there at one. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he straightens his suit jacket and gives Yunho one last condescending glance, “I have a gala I need to join.”

 

“Oh,” Yunho stutters, flustered by Changmin’s response.  He had not expected this, had not expected a chance to actually convince the other man.

 

“I’ll have my secretary ring you,” and without another word, Changmin leaves Yunho with only the potted plant for company.  

 

* * *

  
 

Yunho looks up the restaurant Changmin rattled off to him on the Internet, and he’s pleased to see that it’s Japanese.  Yunho smiles at the thought of _hitsumabushi_ and _onigiri_ , something simple and familiar, and the smile sticks with him as he pushes through the doors.   

 

The place the young businessman has chosen is exquisite, all soft lighting and private booths, and any hope of easy familiarity flees and kills Yunho’s smile in in its escape. It’s arguably perfect for their meeting, but Yunho feels plain and off balance in his favourite pair of jeans and a simple black blazer. Even his pressed button up feels grubby with its loud checker pattern.

 

 _Maybe the office would have been better_ , he thinks belatedly.   

 

He is guided to one of the rooms by the _okami-sama_ in an unassuming black-and-silver kimono, where Changmin is already waiting for him, seated at a tatami table set for two. The youngest Shim looks good, Yunho begrudgingly notes. The blue suit is flattering to his lean build and likely worth more than what Yunho makes in a month.

 

“Jung,” Changmin greets coolly, gesturing for Yunho to sit down. “I took the liberty of ordering.  I hope you enjoy sashimi.”

 

“I do,” Yunho ignores the lack of question in Changmin’s tone. He needs to stay calm today. Changmin makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat as he pours them both a cup of _genmaicha_. Changmin replaces the teapot, and curves his hands about his cup of tea.

 

“So.” Yunho clears his throat into the silence, looking up from the swirls of steam rising from his own cup to focus on Changmin’s face. “Are you marrying me, or not?”

 

Changmin is halfway through a sip of his tea, and he clearly is not expecting to hear that because he chokes, tea dribbling slightly out of his nostrils and down the side of his mouth. He reaches for a napkin and blots himself dry hurriedly, glaring at Yunho all the while. The _okami-sama_ hurries over, but pauses in her steps as Changmin waves a dismissive hand in her direction. She dips into a half-bow and backs away, swift and silent as she came. “I said there was no point in small talk, Jung. I didn’t say you should forget your manners. Or is this an occupational hazard? Something of a side effect from being surrounded by puny little brats twenty-four seven?”

 

“Apologies,” Yunho knows he does not sound particularly sorry, but he cannot quite bring himself to care. “I thought you would just appreciate getting to the point, what with you being so terribly busy and all.” The words are coated in sugary sarcasm.

 

“I’m glad you know you’re fucking up my schedule,” Changmin bares his teeth in a semblance of a smile, all teeth and no mirth. “Do you know how many grants you’re causing me to potentially lose because of this stupid meeting?”

 

“You’re the one who picked the time and date!” Yunho counters, his calm already fading at Changmin’s arrogance.  

 

“Only because you were being clingy as fuck at the ballroom the other day.”

 

“I was not-” Yunho begins, offended by the sentiment, but Changmin interrupts him once again.

 

"Are you really so desperate for options that you're willing to buy a marriage with me?" Changmin’s smirk is prodding Yunho towards the edge of his self control. Even as Yunho counts to ten in his head in an attempt to stay calm, the sliding door to their room opens with a hushed whoosh, a _nakai_ bowing with their trays of food placed neatly beside her. But it’s the next sentence that is the _coup de grâce_ , and the pitying way Changmin delivers it makes Yunho see red. “It’s probably not even worth it... I bet you’re shit in bed.”

 

“I’ll have you know that _I_ am a great fuck!” Yunho’s temper ignites despite his intentions, and he shouts, only just keeping his hands from slamming onto the table top. The _nakai_ stumbles, clearly not expecting to hear such intimate details. She nearly drops her tray of _sashimi moriwase_ , forgetting momentarily her training to appear invisible to the guests; very much alarmed by Yunho’s outburst. Changmin grins into his cup of tea, amused by how flustered Yunho has become.

 

Trying to recover, Yunho turns to her to plead, “It’s not what it sounds like! I just-”  

 

"Jung, stop sexually harassing the staff in front of me. It's not helping your chances," Changmin can’t seem to stop himself.  Watching Yunho squirm from across the table is the most fun he has had all week, and he wants to watch the other man scramble for composure.

 

"You- I- I'm not-"

 

"Try the unagi, I hear it's excellent for one's stamina."

 

"I don't need-"

 

"In bed." The immaturity of the comment actually has the opposite effect and helps Yunho resettle, putting him back in his element of dealing with snotty children.  This is familiar, this is something he can handle. Taking a breath, he snags a piece of the _unagi_ before restarting the conversation.

 

"So about the proposal-"

 

"Jung, I was under the impression that we're on a date," Changmin counters, unhappy with the way Yunho is trying to regain direction and control. He does not want to talk about the terms; he wants to keep playing, pushing Yunho around and around.

 

"A date... So do you expect us to just eat in silence?" The lack of amusement is nearly palpable, and it makes Changmin’s grin widen.

 

"I certainly don't discuss such heavy topics over lunch when I'm on dates."

 

"Been on a lot of those, haven't you, with both sexes," Yunho’s joking tone is belied by the way he stares Changmin down, deadly serious. Changmin doesn’t want to take the bait. One indiscriminate relationship when he was a teenager is hardly blackmail, and he knows this is what Yunho is alluding to.

 

Instead of defending himself, he carefully picks up another piece of sashimi, particularly placed in a scallop shell for presentation. He loves the theatre of it, and he makes sure to take his time eating, "More than you've had, I expect. At least I've not sunken to the level of harassing the help."

 

"You-! Okay,” Yunho takes a breath through his nose and plasters a winning smile on his face before commenting, “What shitty weather we have, I think it's going to rain soon. _Now can we talk about the terms_?"

 

“I suppose so,” Changmin sighs, prodding at another piece of delicately prepared sushi. “First, I want to know how you know all of this. Did Heechul just spill it all, or did you trick it out of him?”

 

“That’s not really a concern though, is it?” Yunho retorts, “What’s important is that I know about your inheritance situation, and that you’re looking for a quick way out of it.  And that you have that loophole that basically means you can marry an individual of either sex. It just has to be official, yeah? Well, I happen to be looking for someone with a lot of money, and the fact that you want my father’s research is a nice bonus.”

 

Changmin is silent for once, gaping at him, and Yunho takes full advantage of the fact. “So there you go. You marry me, and I get you all of your shares and your money,” Yunho needs Changmin to understand that the shares and the money only happen because of the arrangement, needs to emphasize his role, “And there’s a bonus too, you have a chance to thumb your nose at your family and have the last laugh, as well as acquiring an important piece of my father’s work.” He pauses to take a sip of tea, and lets the information sink in before pressing forward.

 

“We get divorced after a period of time, and you give me a small portion of what you have. I’m thinking two percent is fine? You get to be a bachelor again afterwards, and you’ll be a bachelor with shitloads of money and power, too. So everyone wins.”

 

“And you? How do you factor into ‘everybody’?” Changmin asks with a raised eyebrow. Yunho has only seen it a handful of times, and already he is tired of the expression.

 

“I get to let Jihye go to school properly,” Yunho concludes, ignoring Changmin’s snort of disbelief.

 

Changmin is still staring at Yunho, and after three seconds of complete silence, he goes: “Your mind is a very interesting place, Jung. I wish I could study it.”

 

“I’m serious,” Yunho can feel his ire growing again. “Can you just-”

 

“Oh I know very well that you’re serious.”

 

“Well, what do you say?” Yunho presses. He wants a decision made, and made now.

 

“I think,” Changmin stares back at Yunho, pondering the man across from him, “I think I want to buy your research, and I think you may be onto something with your… marriage contract.”

 

The tension across Yunho’s shoulders relaxes slightly at the words.  He cannot believe that Changmin seems to agree with him - it is more than he could have hoped for from a single meeting with the vicious businessman.  A flutter of excitement starts in his stomach when he realizes he might actually be able to do this - give Jihye everything he wants to be able to give her.

 

“I’m not promising anything right now, Jung,” Changmin clarifies, “I can hardly just trust your word, can I?”

 

“If you’re worried I’ll fleece you or whatever, we can always have a contract drawn up, and signed with utmost confidentiality. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

 

“A confidential contract would certainly be drawn up,” Changmin finishes his lunch and places his napkin on the table, “but not right now. I have to get back to work, and I need to think about this. Why don’t we talk again? Maybe you could bring the research with you next time, as a show of your seriousness.”  

 

Yunho blinks, “Um, yeah sure. I could do that?” Changmin is standing from the tatami mat, and Yunho scrambles up with him.  “Don’t we need to pay?”

 

Changmin gives him a pitying look, “I don’t need to. I own the restaurant.”

 

Yunho manages not to gape, but just nods, following Changmin out to the entrance.  “Shim, I want you to know that I’m serious, and I’m on a schedule.  If I don’t hear anything from you, I’m going to consider other options.”

 

“Options?” Changmin steps outside, “I didn’t realize you had a line of suitors waiting. I’m flattered you chose me.”

 

“Not suitors,” Yunho pauses at the entrance, “Buyers.  I will find someone else who’s interested in the research, and I wouldn’t be opposed to selling it to a competitor of yours.  My father is dead - I have no loyalty to you or your company.”

 

“I understand,” Changmin turns to Yunho with a nod before they part, “I’ll have my-”

 

“Secretary ring me,” Yunho finishes with a resigned smile, “I know.”

 

“Another time then, Jung,” without waiting for a response, Changmin leaves Yunho in front of the restaurant, unsure of where they stand.

 

* * *

 

“Idiot,” Changmin mutters as he thumbs through his phone’s contact list, stopping when he gets to the name that makes his lips curl in a sneer.  He has no intention of marrying that ridiculous kindergarten teacher, but he _is_ smart enough to know he will have to string Yunho along for a bit in order to get his hands on the research papers he actually wants.  He clicks his tongue impatiently as he waits for his call to be answered.

 

“Hello?” Heechul drawls as he picks up.

 

“Why the fuck would you spill shit like that to Jung?” Changmin does not bother with a greeting.

 

“Oh, it’s you,” Heechul sounds nonplussed, and it only serves to anger Changmin further.

 

“I know you have me in your phone, you saw it was me, you meddling piece of shit,” he can feel his anger quickly bubbling over, tightening his throat. “Why the fuck did you say those things to Jung? I’ve just spent my goddamned lunch break talking about arranged marriages and contracts and all kinds of other heinous nonsense.”

 

“I told him because I think you can help each other out,” Changmin can practically see Heechul examining his nails as he responds, “And that’s not a polite way to talk to your _hyung_.”

 

“Fuck you,” Changmin growls into the phone, “It wasn’t your place to tell him all those things.  I’m not marrying the idiot, but I may take him up on his offer to sell the research. I don’t know what made him so desperate, but thank god for whatever it is.”

 

“Careful,” Heechul’s voice cools, “that’s my friend you’re insulting.”

 

“I’ll fucking call him whatever I want - apparently he’s practically my fiancé now,” Changmin mocks, waiting for his driver to come around and take him back to the office.

 

“If you’re going to act like this, just tell him ‘no’ then,” Heechul hisses, voice crackling on Changmin’s cell phone, “I’ll have a great laugh about it when the shit hits the fan at the next board meeting.  Can’t wait to see _your_ face when that happens.”

 

Changmin clutches his phone to his ear.  He knows his cousin well enough to catch when he’s hiding something.  “What do you know about the meeting?”

 

Silence greets his question.

 

“Fuck, Heechul, you talk too much when I don’t want you to, why are you shutting up now when I actually ask you something?”

 

“Apologize and call me _hyung_ ,” Heechul tries to sound hurt, but the taunt is still clear.

 

Changmin clenches his teeth before managing to swallow his pride long enough to mutter, “I’m sorry, _hyung_.”

 

“That’s much better,” Heechul sighs in satisfaction.

 

“Now, if you could _please_ tell me what you know about the agenda for this month’s board meeting?” Changmin presses his hand to his brow, trying to push back the headache he can feel coming.

 

“You can be so nice sometimes, little Changmin,” Heechul hums, ignoring the question.

 

“ _Heechul_!”

 

“Okay, okay, god you’ve always been such a spoil sport,” Heechul complains, “Uncle Heewon has been buying up public shares every chance he gets.  A little bird told me that there’s a high possibility he’ll use them to try to call for your removal from your position of CEO and future majority holder.  He thinks you’re too young, and he’ll convince the rest of the board that they don’t need the threat of potential scandal hanging over their heads.”

 

“Fuck,” Changmin breathes, stunned at the turn of events. He had always like Uncle Heewon.

 

“It gets worse,” Heechul actually sounds sorry, which makes Changmin more nervous, “It seems that without the shares still held in public trust, the ones you can only access if you’re married, you have no chance of of trying to hold your position in the company.”

 

“Motherfucker!”

 

“Precisely, Changmin.  So here’s my advice to you: Be nice to Yunho.  It looks like he very well might end up being your savior in all of this.”

 

“Oh my god,” horror dawns as Changmin realizes Heechul’s right.  Marrying someone soon is the only way he can hold on to the company and keep it from sliding into the slightly murkier areas of pharmaceutical research he knows his uncle sees as viable business opportunity.

 

“You might want to start looking at rings,” Heechul comments slyly before hanging up.

 

The driver turns the corner just as Changmin slips his phone back into his pocket, feeling vaguely stunned and a little nauseated.  

 

“Enjoy your lunch, sir?” The driver asks as Changmin slides into the leather-upholstered back seat.

 

“Not at all,” Changmin slouches a bit, “I don’t think I’ll be returning to the office this afternoon, there are things I need to take care of in private.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this is so late! But all three of us had really intense real life things happening (moving, school, family emergencies, trips), so this chapter got delayed. Thanks for being so patient!

“Shit,” Changmin mutters, one hand clenched around his fourth snifter of brandy. An afternoon of making discreet inquiries and politely threatening phone calls had turned up little more than what Heechul had mentioned over the phone. Of all times for his cousin to start being honest with him, that wily git, Changmin ponders despairingly, draining the rest of his glass in one go. Uncle Heewon is really preparing to oust him. 

 

That bastard. And to think Changmin has practically worshipped him over the years, ever since he was a little boy. Kim Heewon probably laughed himself sick at the moronic way Changmin fawned over him and his fucking business strategies back when he was an eighteen year old finance and management double major with too-bright stars in his eyes. 

 

He drums his fingers on the glass table top of his study desk, mind seething with too many thoughts. A tiny part of him whispers, _one phone call to Dad and I bet he can solve this problem for you, he doesn’t like Uncle Heewon too, remember? I bet he will have a lot to say about the company falling into the hands of people with the last name of Kim and not Shim._

 

“This is bullshit.” He growls to himself. He is twenty-fucking-six years old and he would be _damned_ if he goes running to his father with his tail tucked between his legs like a whipped puppy at the first sign of trouble. Not to mention that going to Dad meant Mum would hear about it, and he can really do without hysterical tears and passive aggressive manipulation adding to the entire mess. 

 

Grabbing at the notepad sitting neglected next to his phone, he pulls it over, and stares at the three words he had scrawled on the lined surface earlier in the evening. _JUNG YUN HO._

 

Jung Yunho. Changmin thinks he must be going insane trying to think of solutions to the impending coup, because that is the only explanation he can give for actually considering the lunatic’s -no pun intended- proposal. Maybe it is because he is drunk. Maybe it is because he is desperate. But that idiot’s suggestion is starting to look better and better as opposed to losing Shim Corp. to Kim fucking Heewon.

 

Jung Yunho, though. Pen in hand and scribbling idly onto his notepad, Changmin presses his lips together and finally allows himself to think about something he has ignored for years. 

 

He remembers the first time he saw Jung Yunho, all too clearly. Changmin was only thirteen then, still scrawny and undeveloped and prone to tagging after his older cousins, particularly Heechul. He was somewhat displeased then to discover his cousin had brought along a friend to the family’s annual Christmas soiree, but his ire vanished as soon as he had laid eyes on said friend. 

 

Even at fifteen, Jung Yunho was magnificent.

 

Not as magnificent as now, though _,_ a traitorous part of him muses, and he indulges himself in recalling Yunho’s flashing eyes and outraged indignation at the restaurant, when he had proclaimed himself good in bed. 

 

A snicker slips out, unbidden, and he straightens, looking around guiltily even though he is the only person in his own goddamned apartment. “What the fuck is wrong with me,” Changmin mutters, grabbing for the decanter of brandy again. 

 

“So what if the man has long legs and a pretty face? He’s a fucking liar and a gold-digger, Shim, you idiot.” His hand tightens around the pen, and he prints ‘STUPIDITY’ in capital letters, before etching heavy lines across the word to emphasize his point. “Shit, and now I’m talking to myself like some batty old hag. What the hell is wrong with me? I need to get laid if I think that lunatic is hot, for fuck’s sake.”

 

It _had_ been a while, he thinks, spending more than one night crashing on the couch in his office in the past financial quarter. But there are perks to being one of the youngest and arguably best looking CEOs in the city. Dropping the pen, he grabs for his cell phone and scrolls through contacts, a frown drawing harsher lines across his forehead as he does not quite find a name that interests him, or maybe it is the irritation at the discovery that this is even an itch he needed to scratch.

 

His finger stops swiping across the screen, stalled over an unimportant business contact when he catches a glimpse of the notepad. Thick lines score the bottom half of the notepad, but on the top half, where he had scrawled that idiot’s name earlier... 

 

Changmin swallows, a wave of nausea battling at him, as he stares at the atrocity he has somehow committed. The idiot’s name is surrounded by a poorly drawn heart, completed with lopsided flowers that look like homicidal little faces if he stops and squints at them. 

 

“What the fuck.” He really needs to get laid. And maybe lay off the brandy for the night. And the reminiscing forever. 

 

Gnashing his teeth, he rips the piece of paper off of the notepad and shreds at it, until it is nothing but a pile of unidentifiable yellow, lined scraps. Satisfaction curls up in his chest, as he sweeps them all off of the table and into the rubbish bin. 

 

Yeah. It is just the brandy and being horny. These are two problems Changmin knows how to solve. Humming, he reaches for his phone again. A good fuck will erase all the crazy thoughts he has been having. 

 

Probably. No, definitely. 

 

-

 

Changmin feels exponentially better as time passes, even if he is lying to himself.  Trying to save a company and ignore the only solution is exhausting, so Changmin rewards himself with a break in the afternoon. Just something simple and relaxing. 

 

The tiny little 8-bit sounds coming from his DS pick up speed and intensity, as Changmin gives the gym leader’s Pokemon a serious hit with his Charmeleon. 

 

“Will you just fucking faint, already,” he curses, tongue curling to stick out between his teeth in concentration.  

 

His desk phone rings, and he accidentally picks the wrong move and watches the stupid animation power up the Charmeleon’s speed.

 

“What is it?” He quickly retires his Charmeleon and sends out another. Shit, he cannot lose this battle. “I’m _busy_ right now.”

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” his secretary whispers over the line, sounding a little bit pained, “But you have a visitor.”

 

“Visitor?” more button smashing, “I don’t have any appointments right now. You know this is the time I go over the expense reports for the meeting tomorrow.” 

 

“I know, and I’m terribly sorry.  But he’s rather insistent.”  Changmin can hear another voice, deeper than his secretary’s, ranting in the background.  

 

“Tell him to come back later. I’m busy. Indisposed. Unavailable. Comatose. Dead. Whatever. Take your pick.” Fuck, he is going to need to replay this battle. _Again_. 

 

“Sir, I tried - No wait, _stop_!” Changmin winces as his normally staid secretary shouts rather loudly into the ear piece (and consequently into his ear), “You can’t go back there!”

 

Changmin flings the receiver aside, uncaring where it has landed, and desperately tries to salvage what little chance he has left of beating this gym leader before his afternoon inevitably goes to shit, regardless of who is storming down the hallway towards his office.

 

“Come on,” he curses, stabbing at his DS and commands his weakened Magmar to use flamethrower one last time, “You stupid, useless piece of -”

 

“Shim, you stupid useless piece of shit! I’ll fucking make you indisposed!” An angry voice and a heavy fist hammers at the door of his office, and Changmin has a sinking suspicion he knows who it is. 

 

“Fuck, no, I’m not here, I’m not here,” Changmin desperately tries to simultaneously save his game and duck under his desk, but he doesn’t quite make it before the handle turns and Jung Yunho bursts into his office. 

 

Changmin freezes, black DS still clutched in his hand and halfway out of his chair. He always liked his office - it felt open and airy with the huge windows and large floor space, but everything seems to collapse on itself in the wake of the waves of contemptuous fury rolling off of the man in front of him. 

 

“A _month_ ,” Yunho hisses, sounding like a mixture between an agitated snake and a gas leak. Changmin sees his secretary send him an apologetic look before shutting the door for her own protection.  Changmin feels a pang of jealousy at her quick escape. 

 

“Hello, Jung,” Changmin resettles himself back behind his desk, and surreptitiously slides the game into the top drawer, “How can I help you this afternoon?” 

 

“One fucking month. Thirty fucking days.” Yunho spits the words out like he is flinging knives, sharp and cutting, and Changmin forces himself not to wince. “Thirty fucking days you’ve left me hanging.”

 

“I’ve been busy,” Changmin tries to sneer, but it is not quite as refined as he would like it, not with Yunho baring his teeth down at him from the other side of his desk. “Running a company takes, you know, _time_.”  He does not say that he could not bring himself to accept Yunho’s offer, pride making it nearly impossible, even though there was no other way.  He glances over Yunho’s rumpled appearance - khaki’s with a smattering of hand prints and unpressed button up tucked in with no belt, “I suppose you came here once those brats of yours went home?”

 

“Brilliant deduction, Shim,” Yunho rolls his eyes so hard, Changmin’s amazed they do not stick, “You can tell time. It is in fact after three in the afternoon.”

 

“There’s no need to be so -”

 

“Shut up,” Yunho says over Changmin’s reply, voice levelled out into a calm cold that has Changmin shifting in his seat. “If you’re not going to answer me, then I’m going to go ahead and move on to the next plan. You might recall this one: I publish the research. Open access, and anyone can get to it. It loses all value, and Shim Corp. is put another four years behind the competition.” 

 

“Jung, if you could just give me a minute to -”

 

“You had a month,” Yunho snaps, eyes blazing, and Changmin goes stock still in his seat, momentarily flashing back to some of his more terrifying teachers at private school. “Now you have two days before I go ahead and make the work worthless, and go to the press about your own indiscretions and preferences.”

 

Changmin has never responded well to threats, and now they are back on even playing field because you do not get to be one of the youngest CEO’s in South Korea without biting off a few heads. 

 

“Jung, it’s flattering that you think I care this much about what you say to some shitty gossip rag. I’ll pay off the magazine before it even hits the stands, do you understand? You have no play with that.”

 

“And the research?”

 

“I would obviously prefer it if you sold it to Shim Corp.,” Changmin tries to bluff, but he knows how badly he needs that information if he wants to keep this company headed in the direction he wants, “but I can’t really stop you from posting it somewhere on the internet.”

 

Yunho stares down at him, the seconds stretching out as neither of them moves before he simply shrugs and goes to leave. “Fine.” 

 

That one word is loud in the now-silent office, and Changmin feels panic pound through his chest. He stands involuntarily as Yunho turns on his heel, one hand reaching for the door. “No, wait!”

 

“I knew it,” Yunho whips around, a victorious grin splitting his face, “It’s that bad here isn’t it?  You need the research.”  

 

Changmin does not let on to just how bad it is - how close he is to losing the company, having everything taken away from him in one fell swoop. Instead, he leans back and smirks. Yunho can think he is just greedy for the shares and the research - not borderline desperate. Fuck, he is way past borderline at this point. “Fine, I’ll meet your terms.” He takes special care not set a date to it, but he should not have bothered - Yunho is clearly not used to the arts of subterfuge employed by the corporate world.

 

“You will?” It is obviously not the answer Yunho was expecting.  Changmin takes great joy in being able to unbalance the infuriating kindergarten teacher, “Yes, I will. I’ll, uh, have my lawyer draw something up.”

 

Hopefulness overtakes the anger, and Yunho’s shoulders relax visibly at the news.  “When will it be ready to go over.”

 

Changmin pretends to think about it, “A week. Email me specifics. How about that. You know, when you’ll hand over the research, what kind of money you need for the school nonsense or whatever it was.”

 

“Jihye’s tuition fees,” Yunho corrects him, “and I’ll send it today.”

 

“Excellent,” Changmin reaches for his DS once again, wishing the psychotic idiot would just leave already. He is never going to send his children to a kindergarten with such abysmal teachers. “I’ll see you in a week I suppose.”

 

“See you in a week,” Yunho nods and opens the door to leave but not before throwing a “my dear fiancé,” over his shoulder.

 

Changmin drops his DS upon hearing that and the impact is more than enough to crack its screen. “Fuck!”

 

-

 

The hallway is wallpapered with drawings and posters, all shouting in primary colors and garish fingerprints. Changmin tries to stay focused as he counts down the numbered doorways, eyes searching for room number 124. Said door is at the end of the hall, and it is completely covered in crayon drawings - some of houses, but most of flowers -and he knows without a doubt that this must be Jung Yunho’s classroom. 

 

He clenches the handle of his briefcase a little more tightly and knocks once. 

 

“Come in!” The voice rings clearly from inside, and Changmin would recognize that timbre anywhere - he has heard it enough over the phone during the past week when it was making demands and veiled threats.  After a deep breath and an adjustment of his tie, Changmin brushes into the classroom doing his best imitation of unbothered chalance, but stops when he sees Yunho, covered in glitter and attempting to clean off an equally sparkly child. They look like extras from the sparkling vampire movie thing, Changmin cannot for the life of him remember its name.

 

“What happened?” The question bursts from his mouth without a second thought; he is entirely baffled at the sight of the young boy and his bowl cut looking like a fairytale reject and Yunho as the failed fairy godmother.

 

Yunho gives him a mildly annoyed glance over his shoulder before turning back to the little boy who is now trying to dig the shiny flakes out of his nose with his finger.  

 

“Seojoon here got a little too enthusiastic with the glitter during crafts this afternoon,” Yunho smiles down at the boy like he was a precious gift and not a drooling, snot-and-sparkle encrusted hellion, “We need to clean him up just a bit before he gets a clean shirt from the office.” 

 

“Sorry, seongsaeng-nim,” Seojun twists his toe into the ground, trying to avoid Yunho’s eyes, and Changmin forgets for a moment that he is here for business when he watches Yunho brush his hands over the little round cheeks, wiping at the glitter with firm but gentle hands more concerned with comfort than cleanliness.

 

“Accidents happen,” Yunho is still smiling, bright and disarming, “just be a little more careful next time. Now go to the office and ask for one of the spare shirts. You can’t be running around all day, shedding glitter all over Kim-seongsaeng-nim’s music class now can you?” 

 

With a nod, and a quick sheepish grin, the boy darts around Changmin with only a quick confused glance and bolts through the door, leaving Changmin to stare at Yunho who is still glittering like the emo vampire guy and smiling with a fondness that has something peculiar, almost like resentment building at the back of Changmin’s throat.

 

“I have the papers,” is the only preamble he needs, setting his briefcase on the large, messy desk in the corner of the room.  It is covered with papers and half empty glue bottles and a picture of a smiling girl. She looks like Yunho around the eyes and mouth, and Changmin pushes the thought away with a frown.

 

The gold flecks of foil stick stubbornly to Yunho’s skin but still manage to get everywhere.  Changmin sneers at the tiny glimmering specks now covering the left side of his suit when Yunho stands too close beside him, smile only growing at the news. 

 

“Do we sign now?” Yunho reaches a hand out to the briefcase, and Changmin pulls it back by reflex, snapping, “eager much, are we?”

 

The change that comes over Yunho’s face is startling in its swiftness. Gone is the smiling, genteel  kindergarten teacher. In his place is the mercenary gold-digging bastard with an unsmiling face that Changmin is more familiar and comfortable with. “Are you backing out, Shim?”

 

“No, I just-” Changmin squares his shoulders and meets Yunho’s gaze head on, taking advantage of the one inch he has over the other man to look down his nose, “Just- cool it for a moment, will you?”

 

He turns away, taking the opportunity to accidentally-on-purpose knock Yunho in the shoulder and places the briefcase on the over-crowded desk, shoving aside papers and tiny pieces of Playdoh and paperclips. He makes a production of flipping the latches of the briefcase open, and retrieves the colour coded folders with a flourish.

 

Changmin fans them out on the table, pointing to the highlighter green sticky tabs that say “Your Signature Here” in bold block letters. He thinks they are pretty self explanatory, but he will not pass up the opportunity to condescend to Yunho one last time before they make this official.

 

“I need you to sign where the tabs tell you to.”

 

“Sir, yes, sir.” Yunho grabs a pen out of his coffee-mug-turned-pencil-holder with an eye roll before signing. On the tab. _On the fucking tab._ Changmin feels his right eye twitch. 

 

“Are you a fucking idiot? You- for _fuck’s_ sake-” Changmin tells himself to count to ten, and to take deep breaths, but he cannot quite manage it and he only gets to five before he reaches over and rips the defiled tab off of the paper. He does it too fast and there is a ghastly ripping sound. And for one euphoric moment, he thinks he has ripped the contract. Which would have rendered the entire fucking thing void. Which would have meant he would still be in sole possession of his life for just one more day. 

 

But the paper does not give, sadly. The ripping sound is the tab giving up its fight to stick on the paper, and the part where it was stuck on, while wrinkled, is _disappointingly_ devoid of damage.  Changmin balls the sticky tab up in his fist and pretends it is Yunho’s face he is doing that to. “Just- just sign.”

 

Yunho does, but not before meeting his eye again and uttering a flippant, “This idiot’s signing now, then.”

 

He scratches his name at all the required places, making sure to peel away the rest of the sticky tabs with exaggerated care, and pasting them onto his writing hand, so that they form a neon green bracelet about his wrist. Changmin clenches his jaw, and is relieved when he manages to bite back all the equally colourful retorts he can think of.

 

Gritting his teeth, Changmin bends towards the papers and adds his own signature next to Yunho’s messy scrawl at all the relevant places, and he cannot help but think he is making a mistake. Fuck if he is, though. He will allow the company to be taken away from him over his dead body. 

 

He realises with a start that he has signed in all the required spaces, now. 

 

“Well,” Yunho’s voice is less caustic, and Changmin thinks he can even hear a tinge of uncertainty. “I guess that’s that, then.”  

 

“Yeah,” Changmin slowly gathers the contract back into the folder, and focuses on breathing and not looking at Yunho.  It is just paper, but it feels like it is set in stone, and for the first time in the past month, Changmin feels a twist of real anxiety in his stomach at the thought of being married for the five years of his life to the person- to this _man_ standing next to him. 

 

“Yeah.” Yunho echoes. 

 

“So... when we fuck, _you_ ’ll be the one taking it up the ass, right?” The silence gets too much, and the words are out before Changmin realises what he has let escape from his mouth. 

 

“The _fuck-_ ”

 

“Since well, you’re gay, too,” Changmin shrugs, trying valiantly to pretend he had said it on purpose. 

 

Yunho tries to tell himself that it is not a good idea to commit future-spousal murder before the marriage is made official, and before he can get his hands on the money. The thought calms him down, but barely. “Who the fucking _fuck_ fucking told you _I_ ’m g-” 

 

“Oh, I knew you were gayer than shit when I first saw you,” Changmin says dismissively, an eyebrow arched as he gives himself a mental pat on the back for rendering Yunho speechless.  “Or rather, first saw you again. I mean, you’re a _kindergarten_ _teacher_.” He says ‘kindergarten teacher’ how someone else -someone _sane-_ would say ‘bondage hooker for hire’, with his voice liberally dripping with disapproval. 

 

“What the- how the- Fuck. How does my being a kindergarten teacher even fucking relate to _this_?” Yunho demands, arms akimbo on his hips. Changmin does not deign to turn around to look at him, opting to lean against the side of the desk instead.

 

“Well, I mean... Everyone knows kindergarten teachers are either female or gay. And you’re clearly not female, so...” 

 

“You- you- _you-_ ” Yunho is clearly still in shock, and Changmin seizes the chance. “Yeah so, well, we both signed, happy doing business with you, I’ll just get going now because I actually have a real job that requires me to work,” the unvoiced ‘unlike _you’_ hanging almost tangibly in the air. 

 

“You complete ass-” Yunho starts in again, but Changmin cuts him off by slamming the classroom door closed, satisfied at the look of indignant rage painted across Yunho’s face, the feeling following him back to his car until he realizes that now he has an entire wedding to plan (please, let Jung Yunho want to keep the thing simple and short, too) and his parents to tell, and the media to probably - possibly or even mostly certainly- deal with. And he does not feel very victorious after that.   

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi anyone who's still here - so sorry for the huge gap in updates! This was a really busy year for all of us working on this fic, and unfortunately because writing about these two does not pay the rent or feed us - it kind of got left behind while we tried to adult. But hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter anyway (≧◡≦)

Changmin flips his phone over in his hands, sighing to himself for the umpteenth time. Time to bite the bullet. He swipes his thumb across the screen, and taps in a number he has long memorised.

 

“Hello?” Her voice is soft and cultured. As always.

 

“Mother,” he says, voice smooth and pleasant but fingers tight about the sides of his phone. “Can I join you and Father for dinner tonight?”

 

* * *

 

He drops his bombshell after they are finished with dessert, and seated within his father’s study, enjoying coffee and in his father’s case, a cigar.

 

The cigar rolls off of his father’s fingers after his announcement, and Changmin grabs for it, stubbing it out in the ashtray by his father’s hand. Beside him, his mother has grown pale as a sheet, and tears are gathering in her eyes.

 

"You can't be serious," his father splutters, face turning into a rather interesting shade of puce. His mother lets out her first sob.

 

"I am," Changmin says, less harshly than he has intended; mindful of his mother's weeping. "I am going to marry Jung Yunho."

 

His father slams a fist down on the table, his rage visceral and more stark in the face of Changmin's calm. His mother lets out another muted sob, and Changmin wishes she would stop. "Is this some form of- of delayed rebellion? You'll make laughingstocks out of us all!"

 

Changmin decides against pointing out that Yunho’s family is, although small, respectable.  The son of an important scientific figure and a hard worker, he should be more than adequate, but he can see the way his father is working himself up and leaves that particular avenue untouched.  Clearing his throat, Changmin folds his hands one on top of the other, and says in carefully modulated tones, "Either you can accept that I am marrying this man, or," he pauses to lend his next sentence more weight. "Or I won't marry, and you can watch as the news of uncle Kim's attempted coup hits the newspaper stands, then watch our stocks drop and everything you worked to build dissolve into our shareholders’ hands. "

 

"Are you- are you threatening me?" His father roars, spittle gathering at the corners of his mouth.

 

"Not threatening," Changmin tries to look somewhat contrite. "Merely informing."

 

"So you're saying- you won't marry if you can't marry this man? This- this kindergarten teacher?!"

 

"I will be marrying Jung Yunho." Changmin gifts his father with another placid smile. His mother covers her face with her hand, muffling further noises, but her shoulders still shake.

 

His father is puffing up in outrage again. "What makes you think the stocks won't drop with your- with this homosexual thing you have going on? What about children? Have you thought of children? Two men can't have children!"

 

"Not on their own, no. But we can always try surrogacy, Yunho would agree. He loves children," Changmin parries, voice serene. "That aside, adoption is also a viable option."

 

"You- I-" his father gasps out, a hand on his heart.

 

"Oh, stop it," Changmin snaps, leaning across the table, his patience thinning. "You and I and even Mother knows you're healthy as a horse and not going anywhere."

 

His father pauses in his ministrations, the very picture of offended indignation, and glares, a calculating gleam entering his eye. He sets his hand down, slowly, deliberately. "I hope you know you're an absolutely poor excuse for a son."

 

"I'll take that as a compliment, seeing how you taught me to be my own man, and have my own opinions," shoots back Changmin, while getting on his feet. He gazes at his parents steadily. "You know I don't need your blessings, not really. I'm already twenty six, remember? Codicil aside, I have full control over the company otherwise. And we both know that marrying Jung Yunho would be fulfilling that, as well."

 

He turns to head out of his parents' living room, grabbing for his coat. "Think about it, and maybe... Try to accept it. I hope... I hope you both will be happy for your only son."

 

He feels no remorse for the lie tripping over his tongue. Better for them to think he had taken leave of his senses than know it is a business deal.

 

* * *

 

His mother comes to visit him at the company nearly a week later, letting herself into his office unannounced.

 

Changmin looks up from a grant proposal he is currently reviewing, the demonstration that he is not to be disturbed dying on his lips once he sees it is her.  She looks as put together as always, dress immaculate, hair impeccable; but her mouth is tight and her eyes are uneasy.

 

"Mother," he says, as way of greeting.

 

"Son," his mother returns, fingers clenching and in clenching about her little pearl clutch in apparent anxiety. "Can we talk?"

 

"Sure," Changmin blinks, shoving the proposal aside, on top of other documents that he has yet looked at. "Take a-"

 

"Not here," his mother rushes out, a forced smile upon her face. It softens, turns more genuine as she suggests, "maybe over a cup of coffee?"

 

"Sure," he stands, already reaching for his coat. She gives him another smile, and he follows her quick steps back out the way she came.

 

* * *

  

The cafe is quiet, tucked between two office buildings.  They sit outside, the afternoon pleasant with the warmth of their coats, and the changing view of passersby gives Changmin something to stare at while he lets his mother work up to whatever it is she needs to say to him.  Changmin is settling into his Americano when she finally speaks.

 

"This Jung Yunho," his mother queries, setting down her cup. "This is your cousin Heechul’s childhood friend, right? You love him?"

 

"Yes. And yes," Changmin lies, smiling at his mother a smile that he knows will crinkle his eyes into uneven sizes and will persuade her to forgive him anything. "I do."

 

"And...you're determined to have him?"

 

Changmin does not answer, opting to continue gazing at his mother instead.

 

She fidgets. "I had a background check run on him after your... After your announcement last week."

 

"And?" He keeps the smile affixed on his face. He expected this, but it sends a pulse of rage through him that she is still treating him as a child, even now.

 

"And- he seems to be... A good person." She folds the napkin into quarters, and then eighths. "If he were a girl, he would be perfect."

 

He does not stop smiling, and he does not look away. "But he is a man."

 

"But he is a man," she agrees, pushing the napkin away. "You are- you are going ahead with this despite of what your father and I feel on the matter, aren't you?"

 

"Yes," he offers.

 

“I remember he has a sister though, Heechul talked about her.”

 

 _Lies,_ Changmin thinks, keeping his smile on his face. _You probably read about Jung Jihye on the profile compiled from the background check you had your personal detective run on Jung Yunho._ He does not say that out loud, though, because his mother is reacting less hostilely against this than he would have thought. “He does.”

 

“You can’t marry the sister?” She tries.

 

“But I’m in love with her brother.” Changmin widens his smile.

 

She nods then, a defeated incline of acquiesce. Her shoulders sag briefly, their slight curl a minute but startling change from her usually perfect posture. "I thought so."

 

No further words are exchanged, and they sit in silence until she says, somewhat reluctantly. "Maybe... Maybe you can reserve a table at one of your father's preferred restaurants. Bring him out to dinner with us."

 

Changmin tries to tamp down a premature sense of victory. "You want to meet him?"

 

"We are not monsters," his mother replies, softly. "I know you don't- agree sometimes, on how your father and I can- treat you like a child. But that's because we love you very much. Because you're our son."

 

Changmin startles, and looks down, curving his hands around his Americano, the porcelain cup warm and centering. His mother is not prone to emotional speeches. He expected more of her tears, and some more gentle manipulating, but not this.

 

"So... We'll like to try." His mother laughs then, somewhat tiredly. "At least his background is cleaner than a lot of the men you used to like. And hopefully his sexual health, too."

 

"Mother!" Changmin utters, shocked that she would bring that topic up. His sex life has always been something rarely, if ever discussed between his parents and him, even though he knows they are aware of his preferences. For her to bring it up now...

 

His mother laughs again, a more genuine sounding one this time. "Bring him to meet me, Changmin-ah. I make no promises, but I - we - will try to keep an open mind."

 

* * *

  

The glinting anger in Jihye’s eyes is impressive, Yunho must admit even as he tries his hardest to ignore her reflection just above his shoulder. Instead, he focuses on knotting his tie correctly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jihye seethes, still quiet but simmering, “Did you just tell me that you’re going to have dinner with your future in-laws tonight?”

 

“Um,” Yunho tightens the knot, nestling it against his throat and eying it critically. Damn. Not quite there, it is all crooked. He starts again for the third time.

 

“Jung Yun _ho_!” She is practically stomping her feet now, and Yunho winces at the edge in her voice.

 

“Yes, I’m going to have dinner with my future in-laws tonight.”

 

“Did the definition of ‘in-laws’ change in the last forty minutes? Because the last time I checked, it meant the parents of of the person you _marry_.”

 

“That’s still what it means,” Yunho really wants to ask her for help with the double Windsor, but he thinks she might try to choke him given half the chance, so he decides to skip the tie all together, flinging it back into his closet, and wrestling open the button at the top of his throat.  

 

“Since when,” she hisses, venomous like a rattlesnake, “do _you_ have a fiancée? Huh?”

 

“Since just over a week ago?” he offers weakly, turning to shrug into his blazer, hoping to buy himself a moment of peace before Jihye inevitably snaps.  

 

She rears back and up, straightening until they are nearly nose to nose. Sometimes he forgets his baby sister is all grown up. Now is not one of the times as she does her best to glare _down_ at him. “You kept this from me for more than a _day_?”

 

“I’m sorry?” Yunho tries, and flinches as Jihye advances towards him, and curls a hand around his lapels, yanking him down until he has to cross his eyes to look at her. “I don’t fucking care if you date without my knowledge. I don’t fucking care if you fuck the entire neighbourhood without informing me. You’re my older brother, not my kid. _But getting engaged without my knowledge?_ What the _fuck_ were you thinking?”

 

“Language,” Yunho says, a little feebly, and he feels himself quail more beneath his little sister’s glare. Shit but she is scary.

 

“Fuck you,” Jihye spits back at him, and okay, Yunho thinks he deserved that. “You’re all I have, you fucking rat bastard, and you kept something this important from me? _Who the fuck do you think you are_?”

 

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Yunho emphasizes because he is, he really is, and he does not know what else to say, except to apologise, and apologise more, until she sees how sorry he feels.

 

Jihye lets go of him, backing up a little, and watches him carefully, eyes narrowed and calculating, and Yunho feels like this is one of the more important exams of his life, one that he desperately needs to pass. There is sweat beading beneath his collar. “You’re a complete failure as a brother and a human being. Also, I want to meet her.”

 

“Ah, about that. It’s a ‘him’, actually,” Yunho corrects with a slight wince.

 

“Your fiancé is a _dude_?” Jihye grabs him by the chin, practically smashing their faces together, and ow, her nails are sharp where they are digging into his skin. “You’re gay? Not bicurious? Not bisexual? _Why was I not aware of this_?”

 

“Jihye, have you ever seen me date a girl? Other than Kwon Bo Ah in middle school because that doesn’t count, she was the one who asked me out and dumped me again after barely a day.”

 

“I guess no one,” she chews her bottom lip, and she looks like she did when she tried to scam Yunho out of his favorite sunglasses, cute and a tad manipulative. “But I thought you’d date girls and you just… Didn’t talk to me about it. I just- I always just thought you’ll settle with a girl, you know? Have kids. The whole deal. Seeing how much you like kids. I mean, look at your stupid job.”

 

Yunho shrugs helplessly because it probably never would have happened that way, even if it had not worked out like this.

 

“You still should have told me.”

 

“I know,” Yunho can sense she might forgive him, but only if he treads very very softly in these next few sentences.

 

“And I still want to meet him,” the fingers curled around his jaw and gripping his chin turn less vice-like, but remain a threatening presence.

 

“Fine,” Yunho sighs, restraining himself from rubbing at his jaw. “But just let me…. We’ll arrange something, after tonight, okay?” He sneaks a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. “I’ll be late if I don’t get a move on soon.”

 

Jihye lets go of his chin completely, leaning back to fold her arms across her chest, her face a mask of incredulity. She eyes him from head to toe, her mouth cramped into a sour pucker like she is being made to eat a whole lemon. “Wait, you’re going to see them like that?”

 

“What?” Yunho does not think there is anything wrong- his jacket is done in a formal cut and lined with silk, for goodness sake, and it costs nearly a month’s worth of his salary. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

 

“Your collar is open,” Jihye says, in such horrified tones that he might as well be naked. “Why the fuck did you take your tie off? Where the fuck is it?”

 

“You know, your language-” Yunho starts, but he snaps his mouth shut so hard that he can hear his teeth click together, when she turns around, glowering, to stab a pointy nail in his direction.

 

“No bitching about my language,” she bares her teeth into a loose approximation of a smile. “Not with the stunt you just pulled. Now get the fuck over here so that I can help you knot your stupid fucking tie.”

 

* * *

 

Yunho is unable to articulate just how glad he is that Jihye forced him into the tie when he meets Changmin outside the restaurant. The other man - _his fiancée_ , he reminds himself with a mental eye roll - looks immaculate. His suit is midnight blue and perfectly fitted, everything tailored and matched exactly to his build so it touches and fits just right.  A small, light colored pocket square peeks out from the front of his jacket - it is all very sophisticated, Yunho notes with a hint of despair. Yunho follows the line of the suit from shoulder to waist and down long legs to shining black shoes, the finishing touch for the formal attire.  

 

“You look nice,” the surprised compliment from Changmin has Yunho’s eyes snapping up from well-made leather shoes to find Changmin watching him.

 

“Uh, thanks?” The note of surprise in Changmin’s voice is a little unnecessary, but Yunho decides to take whatever he can get. “You said formalwear, so.”

 

Changmin elects to ignore his last comment, drawing him towards the door with a hand wrapped around his upper arm, “My parents are waiting inside. They think we’re in love, and they have no idea you made me sign a contract, so I suggest that we act as much.”

 

“ _I_ made- you can’t seriously-” Yunho splutters, as he is steered through the front entrance. The interior of the restaurant is dark and muted conversations fill the space. The hand on his arm moves slowly to the small of his back, and Yunho gives a jolt of surprise at the soft contact.

 

“Would you stop,” Changmin hisses in his ear, but the hand stays firmly in place, “We’re supposed to be engaged.  Try not to look quite so violated by my hand above your waist.”

 

Schooling his face into something more pleasant, Yunho leans into the embrace, gently sweeping his own hand up the length of Changmin’s side and grins at the way the younger man twitches away.  “Come on, Changminnie,” the nickname rolling off his tongue with a little mockery, “No need to be so jumpy around your fiancé, right?”

 

“Just- just don’t fuck this up,” Changmin mutters, closing the awkward space between them once again as he leads Yunho to a corner at the back, away from the kitchen. The area is quiet and mildly secluded from the rest of the patrons. The perfect place to introduce your secret boyfriend, Yunho supposes.

 

An older man and woman are seated already, both looking just as devastatingly refined as Changmin. The man wears a dark suit, obviously tailored as well, and the woman is in a deep violet shift dress, modest and beautiful all at once.  

 

 _My mother and father in-law_ , Yunho realizes with a hint of disbelief, and nervousness settles into the pit of his stomach.  The evening has the potential to be so much worse than the most hellish of parent teacher conferences.

 

“Mother, Father,” Changmin calls the couple’s attention.  Their eyes snap to Yunho who squirms under the appraising glances.  The man looks doubtful, even a little angry, and Yunho supposes he cannot blame him.  But the woman looks thoughtful, but perhaps judgmental like she can tell from a glance whether or not Yunho is good enough for her only son.

 

“This is my fiancée, Jung Yunho,” Changmin manages to make it sound believably affectionate, a small smile curling his lips as he says Yunho’s name, and it makes Yunho smile in reply.

 

Bowing to the appropriate degree, Yunho is careful to be entirely polite.  “It’s an honour to finally meet you. I’m sorry it couldn’t be sooner; it’s all happened rather fast.” He tosses what he hopes is a hopelessly infatuated grin towards Changmin, like he is unable to help himself where the other man is concerned.

 

“I should say so,” Changmin’s father gruffs as Changmin pulls Yunho’s chair out for him.  Resisting the urge to shoot him a glare, Yunho takes his seat.  Changmin settles in next to him, placing his hand over Yunho’s on the table.  

 

“Father, you knew of my engagement only days after I did,” Changmin sounds a little weary, and Yunho senses an over hashed conversation.

 

“It’s true,” Yunho focuses his attention on Changmin’s mother - his luck has always been better when it comes to charming mothers. She smiles back at him, her eyes crinkling, so Yunho takes a deep breath and hopes for the best.

 

* * *

  

They are waiting for the main course to come, when his mother starts her interrogation proper.

 

“So what do you work as? I hear from Changmin that you’re a kindergarten teacher?”

 

Changmin has told his mother no such thing, although Yunho will not be aware of it. The other man beams at his mother, seeming to be happy to be on familiar ground. “Yes, I am a kindergarten teacher.”

 

His mother takes a delicate sip of her wine. “You adore children then?”

 

“It’s always strange to me how anyone couldn’t adore them,” Yunho confesses, and Changmin flinches at the eagerness. Yunho continues, “I mean, of course they’re a handful - they’re only five afterall.  But they’re so curious, and it’s, it’s,” Yunho casts around for a word as Changmin’s mother takes a shallow drink of wine to hide her smile, “Amazing.  It’s amazing to see them grow and blossom with a little guidance.”

 

“But you do realise,” another sip of the Bordeaux, “that much as you love children, you and our Changmin will never have your own children together?”

 

Yunho’s mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out, and Changmin hurries to answer before Yunho can fuck up their charade. “I told you, Mother, we’re considering surrogacy and adoption options seriously. Don’t go filling his head with ideas.”

 

He turns to Yunho, arranging his own features into something that is hopefully loving, and slips an arm around Yunho’s shoulders. The other man stiffens minutely, and Changmin widens his eyes and prays his parents have not noticed. “Yunho and I are in love, Mother, and we won’t let something as silly as that come in between us.”

 

He sneaks in a pinch just beneath Yunho’s shoulder blade, and leans his head against Yunho’s. The fucker better play along. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

 

“Y-yes,” Yunho sutters, looking somewhat uncomfortable. Idiot man. Here Changmin is, making cow’s eyes at him, and he cannot even be bothered to act along.

 

Changmin’s father speaks for the first time since the food arrived, “You don’t think you’re making a mistake then? Rushing into this? How serious is this- this relationship if no one knew you were even together until you’re announcing your engagement?”

 

The questions are pointed- a businessman trying to get answers, to get to the bottom of something he knows is not quite right. It is the tone of voice he has employed every single time Changmin gets into trouble. Next to him, Yunho freezes up momentarily, hand turning to grip Changmin’s own, still clasped on top of the table, but Changmin grew up with this.

 

A piece of truth would serve well here, Changmin decides. “Father, I’ve been half besotted by Yunho since I was thirteen.” The hand in Changmin’s own grips harder, but Changmin barrels on, giving back a warning squeeze of his own. “I wanted to keep it private for plenty of reasons, not the least of which was company image.  But also because it wasn’t anyone’s business but our own, and I hope you can understand that.”

 

Yunho’s mouth is twisted into something that could be read as embarrassment, but Changmin knows that look well by now. Yunho is unamused. Yunho probably thinks Changmin is lying, and that is more than fine- Changmin has no intention of correcting him.

 

“Well,” Changmin’s father huffs, “I suppose that’s- that’s-”

 

“That is silly, but understandable,” his mother cuts him off, gently but with finality, and Changmin makes a mental note to try to learn that tone. It can be incredibly useful.

 

Silence settles, but it is the easiest one yet of the evening, and Changmin finds himself a little giddy at the thought that they might yet get through the main course, and perhaps even dessert without much difficulty.

 

Over dessert, Yunho turns, whispering to Changmin, “I need to talk to you after we’re done.” His voice is low, intimate, and Changmin tamps down on an involuntary shiver, nodding his head quickly.

 

“Yunho,” his mother has a funny look on her face as she watches the younger man from across the table.

 

“Yes?”

 

“What’s that behind your ear?”

 

Changmin glances over and sees the purplish smear peeking out from behind the cartilage and trailing off into a dark hair line.  

 

Yunho touches the spot and bursts out laughing, embarrassing and loud, “Today was fingerpainting.  I apologize, I thought I managed to get everything!”

 

Changmin opens his mouth to scold, but he notices the look on his mother’s face and realizes that she is charmed by this idiot sitting next to him. Changmin zombies his way through his crème brûlée, astonished at the development.

 

* * *

  

Dinner is finally over, much to Yunho’s relief. So far, so good. The Shims have not yelled and waved money in his face to get him to leave their precious son, nor thrown any glasses of water into his face. Then again, the rich probably behave somewhat differently from their dramatic counterparts in the _makjang_ dramas Jihye is always fond of making him watch.

 

Shit. Jihye. He had nearly forgotten that his little sister wants to meet his -urgh- fiancé.

 

He catches at Changmin’s sleeve, mindful of the creases his fingers are putting into the deep blue silk, and draws them back, having caught Changmin’s attention anyway. The other man turns to him with a quizzical frown, and they lag a few steps behind Changmin’s parents.

 

“I, er-” Yunho fumbles, while Changmin continues to stare at him, an eyebrow raised, clearly waiting for the rest of the sentence. Yunho does not know if it is the suit, or the belated adrenaline rush from the fact that he survived dinner, but he finds himself stuttering, unable to articulate his thoughts. “We, uh, I, sort of, um-”

 

“Changmin?” The query comes from Changmin’s mother, and the two of them turns towards the older pair, where Changmin’s father is standing, with his hands shoved into his trouser pockets and a sort of sour, puckering expression on his face. Beside him, Changmin’s mother looks more cordial, pleasant even, but her gaze is questioning, nevertheless.

 

“Sorry,” Changmin calls out, slipping an arm around Yunho’s waist. Yunho is very proud of himself for not stiffening or pushing the other man away. “We kind of want to take an after-dinner stroll… You’ll see yourselves to your car? I’ll come visit this weekend!”

 

“You’d better,” his mother retorts, her tone playful yet threatening. She threads her arm through his father’s and lifts a hand in farewell. “You two lovebirds go enjoy yourself, then! See you soon, Yunho?”

 

“Er- Yes! Bye! It was lovely meeting you! Both of you!” Yunho yells, waving back and cutting himself off with a startled yelp as Changmin swings him about. “What are you-”

 

“What did you want to say?” Changmin interrupts, rather rudely. Now that their backs are towards his parents, Yunho notes, with some relief, that Changmin’s face has finally -fortunately- lost the idiotic lovestruck look it was contorted in all evening.

 

“I was thinking, er, well-” Yunho rubs at his neck, thinking of a way to phrase his request nicely, but Changmin scoffs impatiently. “Out with it, Jung.”

 

“Give a guy some time to think, will you,” Yunho snaps back, but the little spurt of anger is enough for him to order his thoughts. He takes a deep breath and goes for it. “Jihye - my sister- wants to meet you.”

 

Changmin blinks at him. “The sister that you’re sacrificing yourself at my altar for wants to meet me? She knows what you’re doing?”

 

Yunho tamps down the urge to punch him a good one in the nose. “Of course she wants to meet you - I’m her older brother. And no, she has no idea this is a contract thing - contract _marriage_ , and if things go smoothly, she’s never going to find out, either. So. When are you free, in the coming week?”

 

Staring a little more, Changmin visibly backpedals. “Wait- you mean- you mean she has _no idea_ this is for her?”

 

 _I will not hit this piece of shit in public,_ Yunho chants to himself, _I will not; I am more civilised than that._ “No, you ridiculous bastard, she has no-”

 

“Careful, Jung,” Changmin warns, but he looks amused, rather than offended. “Seeing how you just met my parents, I can’t believe you’re accusing them of having pre-marital s-”

 

“Just, when are you free next week?” Yunho scowls, hands curling into fists of their own volition. Even his toddlers at the kindergarten have a larger attention span than the man in front of him. “Just tell me what day you’re free already, so we can say our goodbyes and I can go home to scrub your touch off of me!”

 

“I don’t know,” drawls Changmin, a cocky grin on his face. “I suppose you’ll just have to-”

 

“Ring your secretary, yes, I don’t even know why I bother asking.” Shrugging Changmin’s hand, which is still around his waist, off; Yunho manages a spastic little crank of his head that should pass as a nod, if one squints.

 

“Okay. So. Bye.” He spins around and starts walking before Changmin can reply, ignoring the saccharine “farewell, darling!” coming from behind him, eyes scanning the street -full of ritzy boutiques- for a bus stop or a subway entrance. He is not hailing a cab at this time of the evening- the surcharge is horrendous.

  
“I wonder if my future husband will let me use his chauffeur sometimes,” he laughs, somewhat bitterly, to himself as he joins the crowds of tipsy businessmen and over excited teenagers all trying to get back before the last metro runs.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is shamelessly lifted from a Bon Jovi song.  
> This has been in the works since May, and I'm proud to say we already have an astounding number of words written.  
> Feedback and comments sooth our souls and fuel our muses.
> 
> Current authors: whatkindoftea and WennyT.


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